sonofabraxas:
Unceremoniously, a bark of a laugh escaped from the blonde’s lips. Though the moronic reporter had attempted to stir up more trouble than he was worth, Lu couldn’t help but rejoice in the almost cruel and unusual way the man’s sordid career had ended. Having no spine was one thing, but no soul? Merlin, what Malfoy wouldn’t give for public executions to be brought back to Azkaban. “I nearly forgot about that little cretin. What do they say…fifteen minutes of fame?” He grinned, his teeth sharp and almost canine. “I’m surprised to hear he’s still on your mind, Borgin. Thought you’d have more interesting plights to keep you occupied.” For anyone with a keen enough eye, one might remember that the reporter’s name had come up on nearly every absurd headline in the last decade–it just so happened that Purebloods were often given more real estate than any actual news. As lovely as their wedding ceremony had been, certainly covering the recent attacks would’ve been ink better spent.
His chest puffed out slightly as he inhaled. Speaking of Narcissa, the siren had somehow managed to cut his habit down to half–if only on his preference for the comfort that she, rather than the rush of nicotine, could offer. “She’s undeniable.” He murmured, clicking the cigarette case closed and pushing it back into his coat pocket. “Even sent a gift basket to that shite journalist.” He stood up slightly, drawing a glass ashtray from the other side of the bar. Lucius glanced sideways at the witch, unsurprised to see her visage wiped of any emotional candor. “Do you enjoy it?” He asked, his eyes flitting to her left forearm. “The work?”
The shrug rose apathetically on her shoulders. She knew what the saying was, but she didn’t like to think much about what anyone said, the masses or not. “Such extreme changes of character always pique my interest.” The reporter had been a nuisance, certainly, but violent? It didn’t take a genius to see that something was wrong there, but, then again, the aurors were the ones on the case, and geniuses they were obviously not. The article the man had written about the potential of her involvement in her father’s accident had been pointing in the right direction, though, the actual ideas shared didn’t resemble much of what had actually transpired. It was funny how stupid the world around her was, unable to pick up on clues and cues. Reality. That’s why newspapers had always been more akin to fairytales than facts. “I’m not sure what plights you might be referring to. I tend not to bother with that of others if it can be helped.” Just as no one had been concerned with hers.
Batty’s eyes noticed the reaction to his wife’s name. The secrecy of their marriage and inability to wait hinted that there were feelings between them, assuming that Narcissa hadn’t fallen pregnant. From her last few encounters with the blonde, she was fairly certain the other hadn’t. Drinking would have been frowned upon if that were the case. “I would think so if she’s found my favor.” The dark haired witch lifted her drink, slightly shifting the ring on her pointer finger with her thumb to the side to chill the glass, before shifting it back into place. She was growing fond of the ring and wondered if she could mimic it’s abilities in other pieces. Modify it to produce a more deadly reaction with no evidence. “Did it have any flowers in it?” She’d noted Narcissa’s interest in the meaning of the blooms at the Ministry Gala. There was no indication that she saw where his eyes had drifted, other than her mirroring of the action. “I do. I’m quite suited for it, or it for me.”














